


Second Best

by Selena_Guardi



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 18:33:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4756724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selena_Guardi/pseuds/Selena_Guardi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the 10th anniversary of John and Mary's wedding. this day should be a day for celebration...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Best

When she comes over, slightly off-balance, he doesn't need a second look. The faint pink glow on her cheeks, the slightly lop sided smile, it's telling him enough. Three glasses of red wine have worked their magic and shy, quiet Molly Hooper has gathered enough courage to stumble over to him, the fourth glass precariously close to being spilled all over her nice yellow dress.

“Nice party, isn't it?“ she asks leaning against the wall next to him.

Her speech is just a little slurred, a stranger wouldn't notice, but he knows this voice too well. This voice he has grown accustomed to over the years, a voice of knowledge and trust and most of all a voice of loyalty.

Not fully turning he just glances down at her one eye brow raised.

“If you say so.“

There is a bit of a pause. She seems unsure what to say and gulps down a big part of her glass instead. More liquid courage.

“Where's....” he searches his mind palace for the right name, “...David?“ he asks gazing back at the slowly moving crowd on the dance floor.

“Oh...“ Molly starts and he can see her looking at her hands at his side. “Yeah, the sod didn't want to come.“

There is hurt in her voice, she clearly is trying to cover it but the alcohol flowing through her body is betraying her. And anyway, she couldn't have fooled him, Sherlock Holmes isn't one to overlook things.

“Actually...“ she breathes out, “that's kind of... over. It probably has been for a few weeks. But, yeah, this morning he just took his bags and...“

“And?“ Sherlock repeats regarding her with another glance.

“And that's that,“ she states before finishing off her glass.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand she reaches past him to dump the empty glass on the little party table next to him. There is an awkward moment as loses her balance and bumps slightly into him, her face instantly turning a deep shade of red. He doesn't care that much, actually he had anticipated it given her intoxicated state. He just gently helps her regain her balance, pushing her at the shoulder until she once again leans against the wall next to him.

“Oops,” she giggles.

For a second he envies her. It must be nice to numb your brain with alcohol. How easy it must be for normal people. He knows that to shut his mind up completely he needs more... much more. And then he remembers John's stag night and the memory makes him wince ever so slightly. 

“He said he couldn't take it anymore,” Molly suddenly blurts out and rips him from his thoughts.

“Who?” he asks perplexed.

“David.”

“Oh.”

Sherlock doesn't really understand but experience taught him that giving the impression of a certain amount of understanding usually shuts people up. Usually...

“He said I'm not really there,” she goes on, “like what does that even mean? I never was anywhere else!”

She is angry now, her cheeks red from both the wine and her emotions. This is not the conversation he wanted to have. Not now, not ever to be honest. Why is she telling him this?

“He said something like I didn't appreciate him. He was fed up with being second best.”

He can hear the tears in her voice but he doesn't look at her. The dance floor seems like a saver bet now. This is not his area.

“He said I will never be able to fully love him when I'm still in love with someone else.”

And suddenly it clicks. _Oh._

There is another silence. The dancing crowd seems further away than it was before, like the happy party going on around them is not in the same dimension anymore. A silly thought, of course.

“Sorry,” she says wiping at her face, “I'm being silly. This is...”

He turns to look at her.

“... silly.” she finishes looking up at him.

Meeting his eyes she smiles shyly before she looks to the floor again.

“I shouldn't have had that last glass...” she admits laughing slightly. “Maybe it's time to go home. I think Mary and John will understand. Can you tell them I was tired?” she asks and without another look she turns around to leave.

He could let her go home. He could let her walk away. It's easy. But maybe it's time. She's his friend after all. Reaching out he grabs her wrist pulling her to a stop.

“Molly,” he whispers. “I'm sorry.”

“What for?” she returns the faintest glimmer of hope in her eyes.

He swallows hard, because he knows that this will not be easy.

“I can't. I wish I could. But...”

He watches as the confusion on her face slowly turns into something else. Sadness? Defeat? Hopelessness?

“It wouldn't be fair to you. I wouldn't really be there,” he says hoping that she understands. “I don't want you to be second best.”

“Second best?” she repeats.

“I can't love anyone if I'm in love with someone else,” he murmurs and looks away.

Following his gaze to the dance floor it hits Molly like a blow to the stomach and yet she isn't even really surprised. Maybe she had known all along, maybe she just didn't want to know.

“Oh.” is all she can answer.

“Yes,” he says letting go off her hand.

Leaning back against the wall they resume their earlier positions as if nothing has passed between them but the thick silence that follows speaks volumes.

“Did you...” she starts but trails off unsure.

“...ever tell him?” he finishes for her adding a quick “No.” shaking his head slightly.

“Mh...”

Another silence falls as they watch the happy couple dancing just a few metres away.

“We're two idiots, aren't we?” Molly states flatly and can't suppress a little laugh.

Looking at the small pathologist next to him Sherlock can't help but smile. She understands, she understands more than he would have ever expected. And despite everything, she still manages to laugh.

“Thank you,” he says his gaze on the dance floor again.

“What for?”

He takes a second to think about it, feeling her watching him intently. Turning again to face her he just shrugs.

“I don't know,” he admits a crooked smile on his face, a smile that is not quite reaching his eyes.

And somehow she just mirrors his look, smiling sadly, the drunken glow long gone from her cheeks. Another moment passes before they both lean back again watching the people around them.

“You're welcome,” she whispers.


End file.
